by Paul O'Brien
Bree began to plan her exit. She took some of the money that was hidden in their shed and stashed it for herself. She had been at home with the kids while Lenny worked. She had nothing of her own to use to move out. So she used what she thought was their money.
But Lenny begged to come with them.
Bree Long was the only woman in history who ran away from her marriage and collected her husband along the way.
But Lenny was determined to make it work with his family. So he packed up the job he loved as a bottom rung driver to come to California with his family. He was just too full of pride to stay with his wife’s folks. So in the motel they were until Lenny figured something else out.
He put the brown bag between his teeth and he rifled in his pockets for the motel door key – but the door was already open.
“Hello?” Lenny said as he slowly entered.
Bree was sitting on the bed in her casino uniform. She was only at her new job for a couple of hours and not meant to be ‘home’ ‘til later. She had her head in her hands and was sobbing.
“What’s wrong?” Lenny asked as he quickly knelt down in front of her. “Honey?” Lenny asked again, trying to get her to lift her head from her hands.
“It’s my father,” Bree replied through her tears.
Lenny picked up on the fact that she was reluctant to continue with the children right there listening.
“Kids, go and wait in the car,” Lenny said as he passed the two-year-old into the arms of the seven-year-old. They both struggled to stay upright.
Bree interrupted. “You can’t send them outside, Lenny. Jesus.”
She wiped her face, got up and turned on the TV, cracked open the candy and had them both distracted and quiet in seconds.
Lenny tried to rub her back as she moved but only ended up in her way. “What’s the matter with your father?” Lenny whispered.
“Mom said he’s had a stroke. I rang them on my break and she was just home to get some of his things.”
“Jesus, that’s terrible,” Lenny said as he tried to embrace her. Bree was already throwing things into a bag.
“I’ve got to go,” she said.
“Where?”
“To my folks, Lenny.”
This could be perfect timing. Lenny could surprise Bree when she came back with the plan he was formulating.
“Okay,” Lenny replied.
Bree stopped and looked at her husband. “I’ve got a friend who said she would watch the kids.”
“They can’t go with you?” Lenny asked.
“I can’t bring the kids to see their grandfather like that.”
Lenny muttered, “Has he got the face thing?”
Bree nodded. “Yes, he’s got the face thing. I’d have to drive a couple of hundred miles out of my way to get to her first.”
Bree wished Lenny was capable enough to step up and be a man.
“You should go,” Lenny said. “You should do the right thing here. I could … I could watch the kids.”
Bree wasn’t sure at all. She hadn’t seen her friend since high school and she wasn’t sure what kind of person she was now. On the other hand, Lenny had no experience of being a father.
Lenny slowed Bree down and looked her directly in the eyes. “Do you want time with your folks or not? I can follow you with the kids in a week or so. No big deal. It’ll give you time, and your Dad time, and your Mom time, to focus on recovery.”
Bree just wanted to go. If she left now she could be there in a couple hours. “You sure?”
Lenny nodded. “Of course. Jesus. Just go and … help him.”
Bree dried her eyes and hugged her husband tightly. Because of his previous job his kids barely knew him. She thought that was a good thing and she thought that was a bad thing.
“It’ll be for the best. We’ll follow you when you’re all up to it,” Lenny said.
“Lenny?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m kinda afraid that you’re going to leave them on a bus or something.”
Lenny kissed his wife. “I promise not to bring them on a bus.”
Bree continued to pack for home. She wasn’t the only one going home.
January 21st 1969.
Three years before the murder.
Memphis.
Today was the day. Curt Magee was going to get him some. He worked out a provisional fifty-fifty split with Shane Montrose, with a hundred and fifty grand upfront for his services as the top draw in his territory. Mrs. Magee didn’t agree with putting their house on the line. But fuck her. It’s not like they were together anymore anyways.
For once in his life, Curt felt smarter than all the other bosses. Danno may have the champion but he can’t go out there and wrestle himself. All Curt had to do was remove his biggest obstacle, Merv Schiller, and the challenger in waiting was his.
So he waited at the end of Thomas Street. He wasn’t quite sure how the plan was going to go. He was meeting a man his cousin put him onto for the first time. Thomas Street was a bad part of town and he had to meet a stranger with a pocket full of money.
Most of the other bosses were former wrestlers or college football stars. Curt, like Danno Garland had no such pedigree. That’s why he brought along a handgun for company in case this all went to shit.
He watched his side mirror for anyone approaching. There was that silence that you can only get from an empty street. He waited as his bladder played games with him. He’d been for a piss twice.
The eventual sound of metal tapping on glass nearly made him shit his pants.
“Are you the guy?” a voice asked from the outside.
He composed himself and rolled down the passenger window a little. “Yeah, I’m the guy,” Curt answered with his hand over his face.
“Gimme the money.”
Curt watched Merv step out from the American Sound Studio. He took a bag of cash from his glove box and pushed it through the small crack in the window. “The old guy. Up there.”
“Him outside the studio?”
“Yeah.”
Curt and the hired hand looked up the street at the little old guy hanging off the end of his huge cigar. He looked frail and harmless and no trouble to anyone.
“You don’t know him. He’s a fucking … asshole,” Curt said.
The man outside began to laugh. “Man, I don’t give a shit. You say he’s the guy, then he’s the guy.”
The man moved away from the car and reached inside his coat as he approached an unsuspecting Merv.
Merv flicked the cigar butt and turned toward his driver who had just taken the corner at the end of the street. He clasped his hands under his armpits and danced on the spot until his head was cracked open by a tire iron from behind.
“Holy fuck,” Curt muttered to himself. He knew what was going to happen but he was still shocked to see it actually happen.
Merv’s car stuttered to a stop and his driver ran towards his boss. His fresh, plentiful blood surged along the ground and pooled beside his gloved hand.
Curt sat in darkness a few hundred feet away. He turned on the ignition calmly and rolled his car back without any lights on. He didn’t think of prison or he didn’t think of Merv’s family. He drove towards the other end of Thomas Street in Memphis, Tennessee and he thought about money.
Four days after Annie’s murder.
New York.
Ricky covertly took Danno’s used .38 Special from his pocket. Ginny had told him that cops came knocking but he couldn’t remember why. And he didn’t know when. It sounded close. Too close. So Ricky threw Danno’s used gun into the dark waters of the Hudson in front of him.
Gone was one piece of evidence from the night Ricky wanted to never remember again. He only had one more piece left to get rid of. And he was holding five grand cash in his car to make sure that large piece of evidence was taken care of too.
He rested his forearms on the railing and filled his lungs with air and his eyes with the city. He liked it best at
a distance, so he could appreciate the sight without the noise. Each window made him think of someone working late or a deal being done. Money changing hands. People running for the elevator with the straps of their briefcases in their mouths and papers falling out from under their arms.
The buildings, the lapping water and the muted mayhem across the river. Brooklyn Promenade gave him a sense of perspective on Manhattan and other, more personal things.
“How much higher can they build those fucking things?” Joe Lapine asked as he stood beside Ricky and looked at the city across the water.
Both men focused on the two new identical structures which now dominated the cityscape.
“They’re done. The tallest in the world,” Ricky said and bit into his homemade sandwich. “A hundred and ten stories.”
“Who the fuck needs a hundred and ten stories?” Joe asked like the visitor he was.
Ricky watched Joe survey the area.
“He’s not here,” Ricky said of Danno. “And we’re taping our TV shows in a couple of hours so I have to get out of here soon.”
No one else was there. Both men had the place to themselves, to speak openly.
“How is he doing?” Joe asked about Danno.
“He’s good,” Ricky said, lying through his teeth.
He walked back from the railing and sat on one of the wooden benches near the bushes. Joe sauntered across too.
“How’s business?” Joe asked.
On that one, Ricky couldn’t lie. “Not great.”
Joe Lapine was appointed Chair of the NWC by Danno when Merv got killed. Danno wanted the belt, money and extra territories - but taking The Chair after Merv expired would have put Danno in the frame as the man who ordered the kill. So, Danno asked Joe, the seemingly level-headed boss in Memphis, to keep the seat warm until things calmed down.
But things never calmed down.
It was a deal that suited both men. Joe ran the meetings and took the collective business while Danno had the power and money of being the boss with the champion.
“There are concerns for everyone involved. The other bosses are still over there,” Joe said nodding to the city. “And nobody is happy.”
“He’s the man, Joe. He’s got the belt and he’s got the territories. The rest of you are going to have to give him time to get back on his feet.”
Ricky stood up. “Do you mind walking?”
Ginny was waiting for Ricky in their car and Ricky didn’t want to leave him too long. Both men began to stroll.
“They’ve called a meeting at twelve tonight. They want to hear your plans. We even have the foreign bosses asking what’s going on. In a chain like ours, one of us could pull the rest down with him. You know this as well as anyone.”
“I understand.”
“There’s a trust issue forming,” Joe said.
Ricky stopped and laughed at the suggestion. These bosses trusted each other not a single inch for a single second. They all knew the business. They sat in a tight circle and every one of them had a bare neck and a sharp blade.
“Danno’s got it under control,” Ricky dutifully lied.
Joe blew into his hands and slapped them together. “I’m not like Merv. You should probably know that. I take being Chairman of the National Wrestling Council very serious. Now, I know Danno has got the most turf and he has the champion. But my job is to make this thing we have fair and equitable for all involved. Your business is a mess right now. And Danno’s thing is at the heart of that.”
“His thing?”
“His personal matters. It’s all drawing a lot of attention our way. He’s making accusations and threats against the other bosses. He should have never done the deal under the table with Proctor. The riot in Shea, the senator getting knifed … Danno’s wife. It’s all coming from your territory.”
How could Ricky argue? “We’ll fix it.”
Joe was adamant that Ricky hear everything he had to say. “We can’t do our jobs if people employed by the government are looking too closely at us. Senators, The Athletic Commission, cops. We need this to go quiet. Let this all pass without any more fucking incidents.”
“Is that what you’d do?” Ricky asked. “Your wife comes up dead somewhere and you’d just drop it for the good of the business?”
“He got his peace. We all made sure of that,” Joe said, reminding Ricky of Proctor’s demise only the night before. “He has used up all his rope on this matter. You’d be wise to let him know that.”
Ricky listened carefully. He couldn’t argue with anything that Joe, as Chairman of the NWC, was saying. He just had a feeling that Joe mightn’t have anyone else’s best interests at heart.
“He’s got this Joe.”
Joe had heard enough. He buttoned his long overcoat up to his neck.
“How much longer do you think the other bosses are going to allow this to go on?” Joe asked. “For a hundred years we’ve tip-toed around, made our money and kept to ourselves. We’re fucking promoters. We’re not in the killing business. If someone has an issue with someone then they need to sort it outside of our deal. If someone needs to be taught some manners or something, we do it amongst ourselves and we do it for the good of the business. Danno is intent on placing a powder keg in the middle of our livelihoods and he don’t care what the outcome is. If he doesn’t pull back it’s going to arrive at all of our doors. Don’t make me do something about this.”
Joe walked away.
CHAPTER SIX
Three years before the murder.
New York.
Curt couldn’t believe the difference. The driveway, the grounds, the house, the jealousy. He was convinced that all he had to do was wait his turn. And negotiate himself a better deal.
That’s why he was there.
That’s why he turned up to Danno’s new house a day before all the other bosses. He’d blame the mix-up on his secretary. All to get the new Kingpin’s ear first.
In the driveway was a simple black Sedan. Danno never did get another personal car after his brand new Cadillac got suspiciously burned out in front of his old house. He just hired himself a greenhorn named Lenny Long to take him places instead.
Curt parked his car nice and neat – left Shane Montrose in the car – and took the walk up to the open door. A young, skinny figure walked out to nervously meet him.
“Is Mr. Garland in?” Curt asked the rookie driver.
Lenny looked back over his shoulder and waited for direction from the hallway.
“Yes, sir. He is. Come on in,” Lenny said as he stepped aside.
Curt tentatively walked into the house and took in the vastness of it. The stained wooden floors and the sweeping staircase.
Lenny, in turn, exited and drove off in the Sedan.
“Come in Curt,” Danno called from the room to Curt’s right.
Curt followed the voice and peered around the door. Danno was standing, looking out the window, with his hands clasped behind his back, puffing on a cigar. The room was empty, with high ceilings and classic moldings on the walls. It was such that every word bounced around and echoed on its way back out the door.
“Well, fuck me Danno. You’ve got some place here,” Curt said.
Danno couldn’t contain his huge smile as he agreed with the Texas boss’ sentiment with a nod of his head.
“Where is everyone else?” Curt asked while already knowing the answer.
“We’re all scheduled to meet tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? You sure?”
Danno nodded and moved away from the window. “Positive.”
Curt offered Danno a gift. “For Mrs. Garland. I hope she likes crystal.”
Danno took the present and thanked his visitor for his kindness.
Curt rubbed his tanned brown brow in fake confusion. “Shit, I was told to be here today. I’ll have to fire her. I hired this honey from college. She’s nice to look at but she has a memory like a goldfish.”
“Let’s take a look around,” Dann
o said as he left the room.
Curt followed. “Old Mrs. Bollard used to have the memory of an elephant. Unfortunately she had the ass to match.”
Curt laughed. Danno didn’t.
Danno and Curt walked the land at the back of Danno’s new mansion. Curt finished taking down Danno’s new number into his personal pocket book.
“You can’t ride a horse,” Curt said.
“Why not?” Danno asked.
Curt looked at Danno’s growing gut and tried desperately to walk back his previous comment.
“Cause you can’t put yourself in danger now that you’ve got the champion.”
Danno admired Curt’s attempt at a complimentary cover-up.
“I’m serious,” Curt continued. “You’ve got the golden goose now Danno.”
Danno stopped. “What can I do for you Curt?”
Curt had spent the few minutes listening about bushes and trees and stables and fish ponds, all the while trying to take Danno’s temperature. Was he in a good mood? Was now the right time?
“Curt?” Danno prodded.
Fuck it. No time like the present.
“I admire the way you came from the Council and took what you felt you deserved,” Curt began. “I want to do the same.”
Danno dropped the moist end of his cigar on the pristine lawn and stomped it into the soil. “Thanks for the compliment. But that sounds like you’re planning to overthrow me.”
“No, I want to follow your lead, Danno,” he said. “I want to do business with you. Big business.”
Danno picked bits of renegade tobacco from the tip of his tongue. “Let’s hear it.”
“I got The Sugarstick,” Curt said as he whipped the contract from his inside pocket. He could hardly hold his excitement as he galloped headlong into the speech he had rehearsed a hundred times.
“We take your monster and put him in a match with his mentor – the man who brought him into this business – The Sugarstick Shane Montrose. Your guy is the unbeatable savage that no one can stop. My guy is the white-meat babyface that has never gotten the belt. We pick the biggest venue we can get our hands on and make us a ton of money.”
